The adventure: Two sisters are reunited and a young fox helps Hope.
The time: September 1987
The place(s): Chesapeake, Virginia; Dunster, Somerset
Prompt: sillage #vss365 (view original tweet)
Dr Hope clung tightly to the typewriter case. Beside her on the park bench, the dipping light made a ruddy halo of Vixen’s hair.
“So, what now?”
Before the girl could speak, an old lady with a bee on her finger tapped past, trailing an unmistakable #sillage of answers.
myriad #vss365
Dover ground to a halt, leant on her stick and frowned.
“Look, I’m glad you’re back, but my knees are killing me. Couldn’t you have flown here?”
The bee danced on her finger and eyed the bench, its #myriad lenses reflecting the weak, gap-toothed smile of Hope’s memory.
susurrus #vss365
Hope felt the old lady’s sea breeze gaze, #susurrating through her hollow mind.
Vixen jabbed her ribs. “Go on, ask for help. About the boy and the key.”
“Speak up, girl!” Dover snapped.
“It’s not me you need to hear,” Vixen crimsoned. “The Doc must tell the story.”
silence #vss365
Dover nudged Hope along the bench, sat plumply down and rubbed her aching knees.
“So, what’s this about a key?”
“I…I need to tell a story, but the second line won’t come.”
Dover pressed a fingertip to the Doctor’s head, feeling for birdsong. She found only #silence.
regret #vss365
Dover clutched Hope’s hand. “So, dear, how did you reach this bench?”
“We escaped from hospital,” piped Vixen, “I showed her how.”
“Well girl, at least you’re a good sign.”
“What do you mean?”
“I #regret to say that you’re just a thin twig of the Doc’s imagination.”
orion #vss365
Vixen’s startled eyes scorched Hope, who rubbed her ribs, still feeling the edge of the girl’s elbow.
“It’s true, dear.” Dover’s tone honeyed. “Your lovely mind is full of trees, beneath a sky so clear I can see #Orion’s secret fears. But someone has stolen your birds.”
patch #vss365
On the soft park grass, two dogs led their tails by the nose, deep in a scent that traced to… the bench?
The girl’s eyes were deep as space. The boy carried kindness and a distinctive #patch on his back.
He sniffed, licked Hope’s hand, and continued on his adventure.
lotus #vss365
“I must be real,” Vixen sulked, “I saved Hope. She was acting like she’d swallowed a whole #lotus when I found her.”
“Oh, you saved most of her, alright.” Dover nodded. “And there is more than one way of being real. Now, let’s work out how to find these missing birds.”
phantasm #vss365
“I knew I wasn’t a #phantasm!” Vixen grinned.
“I didn’t say that, dear. But, tell me about the hospital.”
“Well, I went there because I thought the Doc could tell my story.”
“And?”
“That Nurse Sparrow was poisoning her. To keep her quiet.”
“Sparrow?” Dover gulped.
craven #vss365
“Why, the #craven little devil! Wait until I see that lad. He won’t know what’s stung him!”
Dover’s bee buzzed, and Hope finally spoke.
“Who am I, that they want me silenced?”
Dover tapped the typewriter case. “You’re a storyteller. There is nothing more dangerous.”
century #vss365
Hope began searching the nests in her mind for signs of a plot. She found #centuries of forest and a feisty young fox. But, Dover was right, she held no birds. Except…
Her heart fluttered. She tore at her shirt. Perched on her pale skin was an orange and blue tattoo.
wings #vss365
Passersby looked askance as Dover peered at Hope’s chest.
“Well, well, what have we here?…”
The kingfisher tattoo tested its #wings, darted around the Doc’s skin, then splashed beneath the surface, just over her heart.
The sorceress nodded. “Ah! We must find water.”
midnight #vss365
Hours past on the bench. A nightingale chimed #midnight.
Vixen chose to believe the crow-black darkness was the reason she could no longer see her hands.
“I remember,” she murmured. “When the boys mauled me in the wood. An old willow bound my wounds. Beside a river.”
vintage #vss365
Vixen’s story led Hope through the moonlit park, arthritically pursued by Dover.
They skirted a #vintage carousel, populated by swans and eagles. As Hope passed, music played, lights twinkled, the birds spun.
Dover smiled. These poor, skewered beasts still had faith.
fog #vss365
Beyond the carousel, trees shouldered out the stars. Hope strode on, clearing a path through her #fog.
Her toes were soon tipping on a riverbank. Beside her, the night nursed the soft sorrow of a willow. Bound in its roots was a small boat, carved like an upturned claw.
bistro #vss365
Dover’s creaky knees barely conquered the gunwale. She plumped down. Hope glared the willow into freeing the boat.
Only fireflies lit the river until, on a rocky outcrop, they came across a candled verandah.
Dover gulped. A #bistro?
“Cheers!” Then the clink of bones.
iron #vss365
On the rock was a thin, grey figure, words drifting from his drawn-down eyes:
“…life is not as idle ore,
but #iron dug from central gloom…”
Hope felt a bookish memory stir. “Tennyson?”
Dover gulped again. “The dead poets are drinking the night. This river is…”
mood #vss365
The river preempted Dover’s words with a sudden change of #mood. The claw rocked. The stars gave way to a glinting granite tunnel.
“Is this the poem’s ‘central gloom’?” Hope mused.
“It’s worse than that.”
Beneath the wooden knuckles, water curled into pale blue arms.
silver #vss365
Fore and aft, the dead river grasped the claw. It swung violently. Vixen tumbled back out of Hope’s head, into the water.
Cold, blue fingers twisted her auburn curls. Her mouth gaped. A #silver bubble of thought rose to the surface.
“If I am you, are we both drowning?”
regime #vss365
Hope leant out of the claw, reaching for Vixen’s hand.
“Doc, stop! You won’t save her like that,” Dover called over the tide of death.
Hope surfaced, the river’s fingers slipping from her wrists.
“But she’s drowning!”
“Yes, in the #regime they forced upon your mind.”
protect #vss365
“When they stole your birds, they cleared the forest floor too. Somehow you managed to #protect Vixen, but she’s been slowly fading ever since.”
Hope’s eyes flamed. She turned back to the flailing figure in the river.
“Yes, I am you. And neither of us are beaten yet.”
fortune #vss365
Hope gazed down into the blue death and tried to plot Vixen a change of #fortune.
She tied together frayed scraps of narrative and unspooled the rope into the river.
The girl grasped first at the laughter of the boys who mauled her. Then at a buoyant surge of revenge.
braid #vss365
Vixen hauled herself up the #braid of story, out of the grasping arms, and back into the boat.
As she lay at Hope’s feet, gasping for a new chapter, the claw shuddered to a halt.
They’d run aground on jagged, grey rocks, piled up beneath a long flight of stone stairs.
contact #vss365
Hope glanced towards the steps, and gulped.
Idly wiggling his toes amongst the dead river’s fingers sat a thin, ghostly shade. He nodded a greeting, then pointed up the stairs.
“Percival?” Dover clambered out of the claw, making #contact with strangely familiar ground.
unfurl #vss365
Hope clutched her typewriter and began to climb the #unfurling, spiral steps.
Dover paused to pep talk her knees.
Vixen, still lying in the claw, begged to stay and rest.
“No chance,” Hope called back. “You’re all I have right now. Grab a neuron and hold on tight.”
reach #vss365
A glimmer ahead. They’d #reached the top of the steps. Hope paused to rest. Vixen, clinging to her mind, had grown reassuringly heavy.
“Doc, why’s that door lying flat?”
“Good point. And why is it made of stone?”
“Because we’re in Percy’s sarcophagus,” gasped Dover.
beneath #vss365
Dover rubbed her knees and sat squarely down #beneath the dead weight of the stone lid.
“You know where we are? Why didn’t you say?” Vixen flared.
“What difference would it have made? We’re both just passengers on this journey. Now, come on, my sister will be waiting.”
precious #vss365
Hope summoned all her strength and the full force of Vixen’s anger. She shoved the lid of the sarcophagus, grinding it open another inch.
“Oh, my #precious! Don’t leave me again!”
Dover’s bee had fizzed from her pocket, spied the chink of light, and flown out of sight.
torrent #vss365
“Oh, you little b…ug!”
A #torrent of mild-mannered curses rose from the crypt, then the sound of swatting.
“What on earth is the matter, Thomas?” A pink-tinted voice softened the air.
“It’s a bee, my lady, a blasted bee.”
“Hmm, let me see.” Surely it couldn’t be..?
reputation #vss365
Hope watched the sliver of light stretch as Sir Thomas forced open the sarcophagus.
She squeezed out through the gap, and a tall woman in pinkish-brown robes reached out in greeting. “Dr Hope, I presume?”
“How do you…?”
“Oh, my dear, your #reputation precedes you.”
stack #vss365
Hope felt a jab to her back. Vixen and Dover were #stacked up behind her, eager to escape the darkness.
“Welcome, sister.” The robed lady smiled as Dover levered her knees out of the sarcophagus.
“Welcome, my posterior! Do you make all your guests arrive by coffin?”
elsewhere #vss365
Still cherry-ripe with indignation, Dover turned to address the puzzled Hope.
“My dear, may I introduce Dunster. My wiser, smarter, taller and, arguably, older sister.”
“Older?”
“Yes. Don’t rub it in. I think she stores her wrinkles #elsewhere.”
flock #vss365
In the castle hall, Hope leant her pounding head against the dark, carved staircase.
The cool pressure sparked a shiver of memory. A man who’d touched her temple. Who’d forced her thoughts to #flock, in pale mimicry of wings.
She fell, shaking, to the floor.
sacrifice #vss365
Vixen knelt beside Hope, shaking her limp body.
Dunster touched the girl’s shoulder. “Child, there’s only one way to wake her now.”
“How? I’ll do anything!”
“It demands a great #sacrifice.”
“Anything.”
“Can you resign your liberty? Return behind her eyes? For good?”
jupiter #vss365
Vixen blinked. Behind her eyelids flickered everything she’d miss.
The hot tang of vinegared chips.
The reassuring ache of well-worked muscles.
#Jupiter in a boundless night.
But the closed sky of Hope’s mind was full of planets too.
In the end, the choice was easy.
empress #vss365
Landing on all fours in the forest, Vixen realised how much she’d missed the soft moss of Hope’s thoughts. But the birdless silence was deafening.
In a small glade, she found the Doc, knees tucked to her chin, rocking.
“I am the #Empress of my mind… I am the Empr…”
crystalize #vss365
Thud.
“Ouch!
Thud.
“Jeez!”
Thud.
In the dark hospital days, Vixen hadn’t missed these hailstorms. The Doc’s inspiration #crystallising into ideas too heavy for her mind’s sky to hold.
With a jealous pang, the fox wondered who was helping Hope to find herself again.
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